


Get Out

by TrashyNyx



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Hancock is a very angry boy, Implied Relationships, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Threats of Violence, Violence, and Nate is kind of an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyNyx/pseuds/TrashyNyx
Summary: Nate decides to update the mayor of Goodneighbor after waltzing through Kellogg's memories. Perhaps not the best idea, all things considered.
Relationships: John Hancock/Nick Valentine
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	Get Out

\---

“Hope you got what you were looking for inside my head,” an uncharacteristically rough voice suddenly stated, heavy static laughter adding an eeriness that put everyone in the room on edge, “I was right… Should have killed you when you were on ice.”

And as quick as he awoke, Nick Valentine collapsed back into the pod’s chair, golden eyes flickering until they dimmed and then closed as unconsciousness took him over.

Irma gasped from behind them, Doctor Amari immediately rushed to Nick’s side, Fahrenheit lit a cigarette with a shaky sigh… and Nate picked at his nails in anticipation, trying to process the newfound information. With the help of Kellogg’s memories, Nate _finally_ would be able to find Shaun, so close he could feel the warmth of his son’s smile. Though he was relieved in that sense, a part of him was saddened as he watched Amari’s feeble attempts to wake the detective.

The tickle of smoke in his face snapped Nate out of his thoughts, and he finally noticed Fahrenheit standing beside him, her gaze focused on Nick. While her expression was normally stoic and rigid, there was some evidence of despair in her mannerisms. She sighed again. “Well, you got what you came for. Take it you are leaving, then?”

Nate found himself nervous around the bodyguard’s bold presence, having to swallow a lump in his throat before answering. “I gotta resupply first, but yeah, I’ll be heading for the Institute,” he paused, continued to pick at his cuticles nervously, “Though, I should inform the Mayor of what’s going on, maybe see if he needs any work done before I leave…”

His trailing off was interrupted by a scoff. “First of all, Hancock has plenty of Pawns in his game to run errands for him, or he’ll just do the shit himself - stubborn as he is. And second, I’d maybe _not_ mention Nick’s condition to him. He may become… hot-headed, as he tends to do.” Fahrenheit’s steel eyes never left his as she took a drag of her cigarette, apparently waiting for confirmation that he would follow the advice. Nate raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say before that he knows everything that happens here anyway? Figure it’s better I tell him now than him finding out later, I’d think.”

Fahrenheit shook her head, a hand firmly on her hip and lips curling into a scowl. “Do what you want. But I’m telling you this for _your_ own good,” she exhaled, wisps of smoke trailing from her lips and nostrils, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And so Nate made his way to the Old State House, Fahrenheit not far behind. The neighborhood watch stationed inside gave him their usual pokes, prods and wary looks. He found his knees wobbly and steps uncertain as he ascended the spiral staircase, his heart pounding as he found himself in front of the Mayor’s open door.

John Hancock was leaned against a wall on one forearm, his other hand dexterously twirling an inhaler of Jet between scarred fingers. The room smelled of its fumes combined with a general staleness, a smell Nate always had found unpleasant at best. The mayor looked oddly pensive and serious as he stared out the window with midnight eyes scanning over the small market, people-watching as Hancock always did. His ragged lips were pressed into a thin line, brow slightly furrowed. Fahrenheit’s single knock on the door frame seemed to bring him back as he blinked his eyes and shifted his gaze to her.

“Gotta visitor, Hancock. Has some information about the Institute, apparently.” Her infliction was stern, as if warning Nate to _just_ leave it at that. 

“Mmm, does he, now?” Hancock responded, his voice rough, raspy, assertive, and yet still oddly welcoming. He sighed through his nasal cavity and gestured to one of the couches, “Tell Hancock all about it, brother.”

Nate hesitated at first, but after a small nod from Fahrenheit, he got the hint and accepted the seat offered. The cushions sank under his weight rather easily, and he found it hard to maintain the attentive, straight posture he was accustomed to. Hancock, on the other hand, nonchalantly plopped down on the couch across from him, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, fully reclined with legs stretched out in opposite directions. He took a long hit of Jet, blowing the smoke away from them (Nate was thankful for that), before his eyes focused on Nate. They were in a way inviting, but also harbored a distinct authoritarianism, a sense of ‘don’t feed me any bullshit.’ Nate took a breath before meeting Hancock’s scrutiny, a hand idly picking at some loose thread in his leathers.

“There was a mercenary-turned-implant for the Institute - Conrad Kellogg,” Nate already saw an eyebrow ridge shoot up at the name, “When we… _I_ … killed him, we found some sort of component in his brain, I guess something that only synths have? So, we came here, to the Memory Den, heard Doctor Amari had a knack for these kinds of things. We were able to figure out through his memories how the Institute operates… and how to enter it - they use teleportation, of all things. I plan on heading there after some preparations. I just… felt you should know, even if it is not a terrible lot of information. Hopefully upon my return, I can provide you more, if you wish.”

Nate stopped, took a moment to gauge Hancock’s response. Nothing had really changed, though his eyes had become sharper, narrowed into slits and more intense, concentrated entirely on Nate, his frown deepened. He pulled a tin from his frock coat pocket, fluidly popping it open and throwing a couple in his mouth, and for several agonizing moments, Hancock just sat there, processing everything. Nate’s palms started to sweat.

“A’right, so you are going to the Institute, then. I dunno how you will pull that off, but I can respect it, brother. Though, for some reason, I got this feeling… you ain’t telling the _whole_ story, ya feel me?”

 _Dammit_. 

Nate could see Fahrenheit staring daggers into him from the doorway, shaking her head in disapproval. But regardless, Nate obliged - the mayor deserved to know _everything_ , after all.

“Well, uhm… Nick volunteered to be the host for… showcasing and playing Kellogg’s memories…” 

Immediately, Hancock’s posture and demeanor changed. He now rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward intently, and those dangerous black eyes never left Nate’s. What remained of the bridge of his nose crinkled up as his brows knitted into quite the menacing look, only accentuated by the shadow of his tricorn hat. Nate could see Hancock flex his fingers occasionally, and the faint nervous bounce of a leg caused the old wood floor to creak slightly. In an instant, there was nothing relaxed about him anymore.

Against _anyone’s_ better judgement, including his own, Nate continued, “Doctor Amari said it would be relatively safe, so we thought nothing of it, and Nick was on board. But, after she unplugged him, he sounded like Kellogg and then just… went unconscious, shut down, I don’t even know...”

Time seemed to stop entirely once Nate finished. Hancock’s fingers became stiff, his jostling leg stilled, his eyes hidden amidst the shadows of his face as he now focused on the table between them. Worst of all, Hancock said _nothing_. Just sat there as if frozen in space, his silence speaking volumes and quite frankly, the scene was absolutely anxiety-provoking. Nate caught another glimpse of Fahrenheit out of his periphery, and she seemed to be more on-edge than usual, an unnatural look of uneasiness on her face, eyes warily on Hancock.

“Mayor Hancock…” 

Nate felt complete fear and immediate regret as Hancock jolted up from the couch, tossing the small table between them aside with a resounding crash, sending his paraphernalia every which way. The ghoul now towered over him, and even though he was normally a good few inches shorter than Nate, in this moment, Hancock’s presence was _terrifying_. A large, furious snarl showed sharp, slightly crooked teeth, the sound of them gritting together making Nate shiver. His entire face was crunched into an expression of pure rage. Black eyes glared from under the hat’s shadows, and now that Nate had a better view, he could see just how piercing - how _murderous_ \- they were. His hands curled into tight enough fists to cause droplets of blood to slowly fall onto the wood floor. The entire image had Nate sinking further and further into the couch, a feeble attempt to try and get away.

“Mayor, please… W-We didn’t know, w-we thought…”

“ _Shut the fuck up!_ ” Hancock suddenly roared, loud enough to even startle Fahrenheit and make the watch haul ass out of the building. Nate guessed this wasn’t normal behavior. The Mayor was usually fairly casual and nonchalant, and the only times he really ‘raised’ his voice was his mayoral speeches from the State House’s balcony. Nate wondered what had set him off so much to warrant such a change...

In his stupor, Nate had no time to react when he felt a rough hand wrap tight around his neck. In the blink of an eye, Hancock was holding him against the wall, high enough that Nate’s feet no longer touched the floor. The ghoul was just tall enough to be able to talk in Nate’s face if he craned his neck up, and his expression would’ve put those Halloween zombie movie posters to shame.

“You didn’t know, huh… _you didn’t know?!_ ” Hancock growled, his voice fluctuating between a menacing snarl and unbridled distress, violently rattling Nate against the wall enough to bang his head against it, “Why did you fucking _let him_? _Huh?!_ You didn’t fucking _think_ there would be a problem… _you expect me to believe that?_ ”

Nate didn’t know if Hancock was _actually_ expecting or wanting an answer, but he (perhaps stupidly) provided one anyway in-between short, panicked gasps for air, “He… insisted. Amari said… he’d… be fine.”

Hancock’s bloody nails dug into Nate’s neck, enough to coax a sharp intake of breath and leave crescent marks in the flesh. Nate tried to wrap his mind around what was even happening. He could vaguely catch Fahrenheit lingering behind Hancock, looking as if she wanted to intervene but was scared herself.

After a few arduous moments, Hancock finally set Nate back on his feet, though kept that assertive grip around Nate’s neck. He let out a rumbling growl, either of frustration or to try and collect himself. His raspy voice was still stern, but significantly quieter. “How… is he? No sugar coatin’ shit.”

Nate audibly gulped. “I-I don’t know for sure. Amari was looking him over when I left; she seemed… worried, though,” he paused and saw a twitch of a corner of Hancock’s mouth. Maybe he should have left that last part out, in hindsight. 

“Hancock… I can go check on him,” Fahrenheit piped up. The two shared an understanding look, and all the ghoul had to do was curtly nod for her to promptly turn around and leave. Once she did, Hancock focused back onto Nate, his abyssal eyes piercing enough to keep the man stuck to the wall.

“Now, you listen, and you listen _closely_ ,” Hancock growled, his voice teetering on evil, teeth gritting with his inflections, “As a courtesy, I won't cut your throat right here. But... if you take _one step_ in this town ever again, you better _hope_ those trigger-happy boys shoot you before _I_ get to ya. Can’t say I’ll be as… _polite_ next we meet, ya feel me?” As if to affirm his threat, Hancock pulled his knife from his waistband and started absentmindedly flipping it through his fingers. Their faces were merely inches apart, and Nate could see the sheen of saliva on his sharp teeth, the unbridled hatred blanketing his face and flaring in his eyes.

“M-May--”

Before Nate could finish, the knife was shoved in front of his lips in a horizontal, ‘ssh’-ing manner. Even its dull edge was sharp enough to produce tiny beads of blood, and Nate found his heart jumping in his throat.

“ _Shut up and get the fuck out_.”

Hancock finally released his grip around Nate’s throat and slid the knife back to its resting place. Nate wasted _zero_ time booking his ass out of Goodneighbor.

\---

It had been days since Nate had been in his office, but Hancock _still_ couldn’t stop thinking about what transpired. In his blind rage, he did some stupid dictatorial bullshit - the shit he had been fighting to eradicate from the town since Vic. Who was _he_ to kick someone out? He propped his elbows on his desk, took a long hit of Jet, jammed the heels of his thumbs into his eyes. For once, Hancock found himself _willingly_ doing mayoral paperwork; fucking anything to keep himself from thinking about Nate… or Nick. Fahrenheit had taken it upon herself to keep him updated on the synth’s condition, claiming to ‘let him get his work done for once.’ She would reluctantly report he was still out of it, Amari saying he just needed a restart of some kind. 

And of course, that got Hancock thinking, which he _hated_ . Thinking about the possibility of Nick… not being Nick anymore. If he had to restart or reboot (or whatever mumbo-jumbo Amari was talking about), that meant he would be a clean slate, _right_? He wouldn’t remember the cases, Diamond City, traveling with Nate…

How he helped Hancock get out of Diamond City when the riots turned violent, when Hancock would sneak into his office and make him roll his golden eyes, the long talks the two would have over drinks about their non-human woes and just life in general…

What _they_ had together. It could all just… disappear.

“ _Fuck…_ ” Hancock outwardly cursed as he felt tears tease his eyes. God, he wished he could just turn his fucking brain _off_.

A few more days came and went, and Hancock took to drugging himself into an almost coma-like sleep, only being awake for a few hours or so a day. His waking moments were spent ruminating on the what-ifs, and goddamn he wanted those moments to just _disappear_. Paperwork kept getting shoved aside, the highs lost their splendor, and he had even heard frankly hilarious rumors of him turning feral in the confines of his office. But no, he wasn’t losing his mind just yet. His shattered heart was a different story.

He was able to kick his ass back in gear eventually, to everyone’s relief. When the people would ask about him and how he was, Hancock would simply shrug, trademark cocked grin on his face as he would calmly say, “Eh, sometimes you just need to veg out for a bit to take the edge off, ya feel me?” There’d be a shared hearty laugh, and that seemed to be enough to satiate their curiosity. Hancock would saunter through town, check in with everyone, have some idle chit-chat here and there, then walk back to his office to chug away at mayor shit. He still couldn’t muster the courage to pop in the Memory Den, though when he passed it, Hancock’s eyes would linger on its doors. 

Hancock found himself dozing off in front of his terminal on this particular night. Turns out a day with minimal drugs involved on top of working on shit he procrastinated in his drugged stupor was exhausting. He rubbed the bridge of his remaining nose with a groan, _really_ regretting putting this shit off.

Caught up in his work, Hancock didn’t notice his door open.

Or the small clings of metal-against-metal as a lighter flicked aflame.

Or the soft, careful steps of someone approaching, wisps of smoke trailing them, golden eyes gleaming amidst the office’s dim lights.

Hancock’s muscles seized when he felt a metallic coldness on his shoulder - it permeated through his frock coat, and it was a sensation that was… _familiar_. When he turned to face his visitor, midnight eyes widened in astonishment, his heart leaped clear into his throat, and his breath hitched in his throat. If it wasn’t for the fact Hancock knew he was strangely sober tonight, he would’ve immediately chalked this up to being high.

“Fahr told me you’ve been worried sick, doll. Scared Nate away and everything. I keep telling you, she has _your_ temper.”

Nick found himself startled and yet also amused as Hancock suddenly shot up from his chair, almost knocking it to the floor, and pulled him into as tight of a hug as the ghoul could muster.

“ _Goddammit_ , Nick… you aren’t allowed to pull _that_ shit _ever again_ ,” Hancock muttered, his voice faltering. He broke the hug slightly only to pull Nick’s face to his own, not hesitating to lock their lips together. There was a hunger to the kiss, but it was more of a yearning for something missed instead of an insatiable lust. Hancock had to hold back a sob as Nick returned it, his hands resting on the ghoul’s slender hips, a contact that elicited a pleased, content moan. If it was up to Hancock, they would have stood there like that for hours, just making passionate love in his office, holding each other close and tenderly - accounting for all the days they had missed.

Eventually, they did pull apart (though not far) to catch their breath, and a devious smirk crept across Nick’s face. With a ginger push, Hancock was plopped back in his chair, his synth lover now straddling his lap. Before initiating another intimate kiss with his own agenda in mind, Nick chuckled against Hancock’s ruined lips, “Noted, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> I found myself SUPER enjoying writing Johnny as a big angry boy - so much so I had to draw that small art piece.  
> It proved a good opportunity to work in some of his super-upset companion dialogue that I didn't even know existed - and is super snarky and amazing.  
> Also, yay for happy endings... and oh dang implied start-to-smut-time.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed, and thank you! ♥


End file.
